Best Laid Plan
by victoriaely
Summary: Carson and Rodney are trapped
1. Chapter 1

Rodney was sitting by the wall, being as silent as possible. There was no real logical reason for that, but it felt the right thing to do. On his left, the hallway extended, as far as he knew, to the other entrance. The earthquake that had blocked it on the right could have affected it there, too, but exploring it was the last thing on his mind.

They - him and his team - had reached the palace on foot, after a two hours hike. Sheppard and Ronon had been amused by his and Carson's exhaustion, which had only made him angry. He had started fighting with the Satedan, ignoring Carson's pleas to calm down. Eventually, they had decided that the soldiers would stay outside to guard the perimeter and the doctors would go inside to explore the deserted place. 'Stay in radio contact,' Sheppard had said. He was in radio contact, but the radio wasn't working. The only thing that was truly working was his over-active mind, slowly taking him into full panic mode.

Rodney turned to his right, looking at Carson's prone, unconscious form. The man hadn't moved since the wall crashed on him. Rodney put his right hand on Carson's forehead, happy to find him warm - alive. He never actually considered the possibility that Carson could die. His friend always fought, silently, maybe afraid, but fought nonetheless. Carson couldn't die.

They had explored the endless halls in silence. Rodney knew how Carson felt about his fights with... pretty much everybody. He always told him that they were pointless. There was nothing he needed to prove and it was a shame to upset friends because of pride.

When the earth beneath them first shook, Carson was obviously scared and the only thing he could do was laugh at his friend. 'No earthquakes in Scotland?' Carson had paused for a few moments, regaining his composure and had moved on without a word. If only he hadn't stopped then...

A few moments later another earthquake had come, more violent this time. Before they could do anything, the walls came crashing down on top of them. Carson didn't even scream. It was really hard to say how much debris there was, Rodney could only see his friend's head and shoulders.

He closed his eyes and took his head in his hands. Every time something bad happened, some freaky good thing happened and helped them get out of it. But now? Maybe the others were injured, too. Maybe they were dead, and he was on his own.

The reasonable thing to do would be to explore the rest of the hall, to see if there was an exit, or to see if he could free Carson. But he couldn't do any of these. If he left and Carson woke up alone, he'd think that Rodney had left him. Or maybe Carson would die. Rodney shuddered as the thought crossed his mind. Carson was smart, kind and witty, but he was human. Everyone around him was human and they would all die.

Rodney heard a noise, like something moving against stone. He opened his eyes and saw Carson's left hand slowly moving against the debris on the floor.

"Carson!" Rodney's voice filled the hall.

Carson tried to slowly move his head, but the effort was obviously too much. Rodney got up and took his jacket off, folding it. He couldn't believe that he hadn't thought of this sooner. He kneeled at Carson's side and gently placed the jacket under his friend's face. He could feel the small cuts on his face, where the grainy sand had bit into the skin when he hit the floor.

"Can you talk?" Rodney asked quietly. He saw Carson's left hand slowly move towards him. He took it in his, slowly rubbing it. Carson was alive, moving and breathing there with him. Every once in a while, Carson moved his thumb a bit, letting him know that he was still conscious. When he forgot to, Rodney gently moved it away from his hand, hoping that he would move it back. He always did.

"I'm sorry for acting so dumb outside. It's not like I try to be that way, but I can't help it..." Carson had told him that he was a good friend, but that he needed to show that he thought about the others. Carson never thought that he was egoistic. But he was, every time something bad happened, Rodney remembered just how egoistic he was. He always prayed, no, hoped, that he would be the first to die. He couldn't live with the thought of their death.

Rodney looked at Carson and wondered what he was thinking of. Probably assessing his injuries. Maybe he was thinking about death. His own death. He had to take Carson's mind off things, help him relax.

"Carson, I remember one planet we visited a year ago. It was really interesting. The gate was on a beach, the ocean was blue and the breeze was wonderful." There weren't any walls to fall on you, to block the sun, to keep you confined. The village was burning and he could see bodies of humans scattered all over the place. But Carson didn't have to know about that. When they came back from that mission, they said it was of no interest. It was strange how nothing was good all the way in this galaxy. "But you don't like places like that, do you? I heard once that Scotland is one of the most beautiful places on Earth. And it wasn't a Scotsman that said it. I bet you agree." When he first met Carson, he thought the man was a little crazy. After knowing him, he thought Carson was too kind. More than anything, he was unlucky. Carson never seemed to get what he deserved, not even half. Rodney knew there was a lot that he needed to say, but he couldn't form words. Every thought stopped before he could put it into words, worrying him more, panicking him more.

"We'll get out of here, Carson. Don't worry."

Carson's whispered response sent chills down Rodney's spine. "Go. Don't be here when I..." All his strength was used to say those few words and Rodney couldn't answer. For a few moments, he tried to blink away the tears that were clouding his vision.

"You know, in all those action movies, they say what they'll do when they get out. They always say dumb stuff, about traveling and so on. When I get away from here, I want to eat a big bowl of blue Jell-O. I'm sure you'd enjoy a cup of your tea."

He moved his finger against Carson's again, getting no response. He got down to the floor on his stomach and slowly lifted Carson's head enough to see his closed eyes. With his other hand, he rubbed his forehead until he could see the blue eyes opening.

"I wanted to ask you something. Will you take me to Scotland?"

Carson smiled. He tiredly closed his eyes and Rodney prayed that they would be rescued. Carson couldn't die.


	2. Chapter 2

Rodney barely registered the voices. They gradually came closer, became easier to understand. Sheppard was talking to Teyla, who softly replied, probably answering his questions.

"McKay!" John was almost shouting. "Why didn't you come out? What were you waiting for?"

Rodney looked up at him and squeezed Carson's hand. "Carson's trapped." His voice sounded faint even to him.

"You should have come out to tell us," John answered, his voice a bit quieter. A bit. "What happened?"

Rodney closed his eyes. Why was Sheppard asking such questions? He couldn't have missed the earthquake, nor the big pile of rocks pinning Carson down.

Teyla mistook his silence for a sign of discomfort and asked, concerned, "Are you injured, doctor?"

Suddenly energized, Rodney rose to his feet and waved his hands dismissively. "We don't have time for this, Colonel. Carson's barely conscious. We need someone from medical to be monitoring him. And we need Turner from engineering here figuring out the quickest, safest way to move this rubble off of Carson." Rodney paused for a few seconds, trying to remember what else he needed to say. "He didn't say anything, but I think he's in pain." He looked accusingly at Sheppard and sat down again, picking up Carson's hand.

The next few hours passed slowly, uncomfortably so. Every shift of the stones made Carson hiss in pain. Rodney knew that it was impossible to move them without affecting Carson, but every once in a while, when the doctor seemed to be in more pain than before, he would yell at the engineers. As hard as it was, he knew that the only thing he could do for Carson was to let the others if he was feeling worse.

Sheppard hovered, moving from one place to another until Biro told him to get out of the hall if he didn't plan on helping. The woman had to be the least subtle person in Atlantis, but Rodney was the last person to blame her for that. At some point after arriving, she set up an IV and moved away a few moments after her work was done. Biro and the nurses were now waiting for the stones to be moved.

"How are you holding up?" Rodney asked, brushing Carson's forehead. Beads of sweat were mixed with dust and highlighted the lines of pain there. There was no response, but he felt Carson's head tilt a little, leaning on his palm.

Rodney looked up as Teyla came over with a damp cloth. He took it and pressed it to the Scot's forehead, slowly massaging. "We're almost half way there," Rodney said, looking at the pile of rocks deposited on his right side. He wanted to ask one of the marines how long it was since they started, but he was afraid of the answer. Time passed faster if you didn't know the minute count. Or so it felt.

-- - --

Rodney had been in a lot of emergency rooms. Most were large rooms with beds running down two sides, inadequately hidden behind privacy curtains that didn't keep the light or noise away, and with a clear view of everything. Atlantis' infirmary was not like that. Rodney hated the fact that he could not see who was coming and going from the surgery

Biro had told him to wait on the bed and even if he wanted to leave, he didn't have the energy. So he settled for waiting in silence, hoping that someone would come and tell him what was going on.

"Are you well, doctor?" Teyla asked, stopping by his bed.

"Yes, I'm just... tired," he answered, rubbing his temples. Teyla was smiling at him, and he remembered she had asked him how he felt back in the hall and he ignored her. Actually, he had forgotten the question, but it was still rude. "Sorry for not answering back in the hall... I was -"

"It is okay. I understand. You had more important thoughts on your mind."

"More urgent, not more important," he whispered. "I was afraid he was going to die. I was so afraid."

Teyla nodded, taking a place on the bed beside him. "He often told me, when he was watching over you, or the Colonel, or Ronon, that he worries a lot." She smiled, remembering the scene. "He said it is because he knows just how many things will go wrong."

"Yeah." Carson always fixed everybody. Well, almost always. There were times when someone would die, and for a day or two, Carson would eat alone, drink his coffee alone and avoid being around them. Looking back, Rodney wondered if it wasn't they who avoided being around him. Neither of them was able to give any real comfort, all being terrible with words.

"I remember how he loses a patient," Rodney said.

"Yes, the deaths hurt him most."

Rodney knew that Elizabeth tried to talk to Carson each time someone died. Sometimes, he would listen to her, without paying any attention. Other times, he would leave the room before she got the chance to speak to him.

"Did you ever talk to him after... ?" Rodney asked.

"Sometimes, when he wanted to."

"And what did you say?"

"What did you say to him back in the hall?" she asked looking at him. "It is not about words, and you know it."

-- - --

They all stood, looking at Carson's body, pale and small under the sheets, with the casted leg in traction.

A nurse told them he'd wake up soon, so they waited. Teyla and Ronon patient, Sheppard fidgeting, Elizabeth pacing and him - he was waiting, trying not to think too much about Carson's pain. The one that was and the one that would come during his recuperation.

Carson slowly opened his eyes, looking at them, but without showing any interest in their presence. A nurse came and looked at the monitors, then called for Biro.

"Do you remember what happened?" the doctor asked Carson a few moments later.

He nodded slowly, still staring through them.

"You were quite lucky, considering the circumstances. Your right leg's tibia is broken in two places, you have two cracked ribs, but other than that, nothing major," Biro said. "The bruising should heal in a few days."

Carson nodded absently and continued staring. The silence was uncomfortable, nobody really knowing what to do or say. Usually, Carson would say something, make them all smile and everything would feel right again. Except this timeCarson was lying in the infirmary bed, silent.

"Do you want us to leave?" Rodney asked suddenly. That was what Carson usually said after they made sure the injured one was alive and breathing: that his patient needed rest and they had to leave.

"Aye," came the Scot's hoarse response.

One by one, they left the infirmary, leaving him alone with Rodney and Biro.

"Dr. McKay..." the woman said, probably wanting to remind him he was part of 'us'.

"Just wanted to say that... I'm happy you're okay, Carson. I was worried and... it's good to have you here," Rodney said, rising from his chair.

"If you want... stay," the Scot said softly.

Rodney couldn't tell if it was a request or permission, or a little of both, but either way, he sat down and carefully took Carson's left hand.

The night passed slowly, his hand going numb but warmed by Carson's skin.

-- - --

The cool morning air was a nice change from Colorado's sauna atmosphere. Rodney was studying the little leaflet advertising the different means of transport and he was wondering what Carson would say about their idea of 'comfortable'. Twenty days on the Daedalus were more than enough for him to learn how to use those crutches, but it never got easy. How they were going to get to Scotland from the big London airport was still a mystery.

Carson came back, breathing heavily from the effort. "They said all trains already left. The next one is tomorrow morning."

Carson had insisted he could go to the customer service kiosk and ask them about possible transportations. "We have the bus left and -"

"We can rent a car," Rodney said, hoping his friend would agree. It was the easiest way, for both of them. As much as he wanted to help Carson, the man was quite heavy, and helping him get into the plane had been a nightmare.

"A car? All the way to Scotland? That would be too expensive," Carson said, looking at him as if he had lost his mind.

"But... Listen, what have you spent your salary on during the past year? It's not such a big deal."

"It'd be a waste of money. We'll take a bus." Carson sat down, slowly, being careful not to slam anything with his crutches. "Could you go and ask them about the buses? Please," he said, looking pleadingly at Rodney.

Smiling, Rodney handed Carson the small brochure, who placed it on top of their luggage and closed his eyes.

"I'll be back in a minute. Just make sure someone doesn't steal you in the meantime," Rodney said.

Carson waved his hand, suggesting no one was crazy enough to do that, and Rodney left him there, dozing.

-- - --

The "little" trip was getting more and more uncomfortable for Carson. He had tried to find a good position for several minutes after getting on the bus, but failed. Now he was in pain. Rodney knew he had taken that day's pain meds before they got aboard, so he had no choice but be miserable.

"Are you okay?" Rodney asked, concerned.

"You were right. I'm such a daft," Carson said tiredly, his face lined with pain.

Rodney could remember how bad it felt to have a cast, and the last thing he wanted was for Carson to feel worse. "We could still get off and take a car," he suggested

"We have one more hour to go, and it'd be hard to find one at this time."

"Didn't know Scots have siesta," Rodney replied, grinning. It was about four o'clock and the streets of the small towns they were passing through were quite empty. At first, the different architecture seemed odd. Houses weren't like modern American or Canadian houses, they were smaller and more... personalised. After seeing more of them, he couldn't help and wonder how would his life be if he had been born in one of the white Scottish houses.

Carson was looking out the window, smiling. "Been here?" Rodney asked.

"Aye. My dad was born here. I used to come here to see my grandparents."

"Walked all the way?" Rodney asked, appalled by the thought.

"I had a friend who had a bicycle and he loaned it to me sometimes, or a friend of my dad's drove me here when he had business in town, but aye, walked most of the time." He must have seen the surprise on Rodney's face, because he continued, "Dad would wake up at five to go to work, and I would go with him, wait for his bus, and then come here. Usually, I got here right in time for breakfast. Their breakfast." Carson smiled, remembering. "I used to help grandpa in the garden. Had my little corner with tomatoes, and a small apple tree, and flowers. Sometimes dad would stop here on his way back home and pick me up, and he'd tell me about his day."

Rodney wanted to ask him more, but knew his dad had died when he was still a kid, and didn't want to force Carson to say more than he wanted.

"Sometimes, when I remember my childhood, I feel like it was in a another life, another world, where everything was good and easy and... I miss it," Carson said softly.

Rodney sometimes wondered if not having a home on Earth was better for a member of the Atlantis expedition. When he saw them sitting at a table in the mess hall, with photographs from home in their hands, he knew he couldn't have made it through in their place.

"This is where I went to high school," Carson said, turning to look at him. "Didn't like it very much. And the teachers said I should get used to the thought that I couldn't be a doctor. Came back nine years later with a PhD, and my mum said I should be ashamed of myself for being so proud."

Rodney smiled, remembering all the times he waved his diplomas in front of people who never thought him capable of accomplishing anything important, and how much it hurt when they still didn't understand how big it was. "What did you say?"

"That she would have done it if I hadn't."

-- - --

"Rodney, leave the man alone," Carson said, pulling at his sleeve.

"Who does he think he is, calling you that? It's not his problem how you broke your leg. You're a paying customer and he has the duty to wait for you," Rodney said, annoyed by the bus driver's attitude. If he only knew who he was yelling at to move faster, all the important work, the discoveries Carson had made. If only Rodney could tell him.

"Come on, Rodney. It's late, and we've still got a wee bit to walk."

Rodney wanted to ask him why they hadn't asked the driver to stop closer to Carson's house, wanted to tell him even a kilometer would take them more than half of hour.He was sick and tired of traveling, but Carson was already a few steps ahead, limping slowly with his head bowed and an uneven, laboured breath

"How much is a wee bit?" Rodney asked.

When they packed at Cheyenne Mountain, they decided one suitcase for each was more than enough. Now, dragging both of them on the dusty road, Rodney wished he had chosen wheeled luggage. Carson turned aroundat Rodney and then back at his crutches, muttered something and moved on.

It was obvious he was putting a lot of effort into walking, doing his best to move at a decent pace. So every once in a while Rodney would stop to make some adjustments to his suitcase, so that Carson could rest a little.

Carson's town was really wonderful. Small houses with gardens full of flowers, kids playing in the street. It was nothing like the endless alleys with identical gray houses that he was used to from his childhood.

"Do you think anyone here will recognise you?" Rodney asked.

"Maybe, though most of my friends are in Glasgow and London. Maybe some of their parents would."

"One of them that has a car could help us a bit..."

Carson smiled, looking at the two suitcases Rodney was dragging. "I'm sorry about this. I promise we'll take a car on the way back."

"Still..." Then it hit him. Since getting down from the bus he had seen only two cars.. "Does your mother have a car?"

"No, she has no use for it. And I think she couldn't get the license. She's a bit... impulsive when she doesn't get things her way, and I can hardly imagine any car performing as she'd want it to."

Rodney laughed. He was getting more and more anxious to meet Mrs. Beckett.


End file.
